Conversations of the Two Fools'
by roar526
Summary: What's the next best place to a confessional for bearing your soul? A bar, of course. Marshall finds a friend in an unlikely place and attempts to reconcile his heart with his head. Rated on the side of caution. NOW COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Author's notes: I own nothing from the IPS universe, especially not these wonderful characters. The idea for a story based around these two characters came to mind almost immediately after the season finale. It's just taken me this long to come to terms with the finale and get these two talking. Thanks to bujyo without whom I wouldn't publish a word and also to sfchemist for giving it a read through. **

***A special thanks to bujyo for her encouragement and on a side note; she and I came up with our story ideas separately, but spent many, many a night discussing them and reading each other's drafts. I wouldn't call this a companion piece to Here Stands a Fool, since she deals with Marshall in her own way, but I guess you could say the stories sort of complement each other. If for some reason you have read hers, I recommend it. Not because you need to, but because it's good.**

****Spoilers and assumed timeline: Season 3 through the finale. In my world, Gabe arrives mid-season after No Clemency for Old Men and before Love's Faber Lost. Assuming the season covered about an 8-9 month period of life in ABQ, it fits with their reference to Gabe having been there for 4 months. **

*****For those that may have missed it, the place Gabe bartended was called the Two Fools' Tavern.**

* * *

**Conversations of the Two Fools'**

It was 8 days after Gabe's arrival in Albuquerque when Marshall Mann first sat down at the bar of the Two Fools' Tavern. Even though the former priest turned barkeep was Mary's witness, Marshall could not help but be concerned about the man. One did not walk away from a calling like the priesthood lightly and the alacrity with which Gabe had removed his collar after signing the MOU had been distressing.

"Marshall!" Gabe called out in surprise as the Inspector sat down on a stool at the bar, away from the small group that had gathered at the other end. "Are you here in need of refreshment or is this official business?" His eyes narrowed in curiosity. "Checking up on me for Mary?"

"As much as she likes to think it true, I am **not** Mary's errand boy," Marshall stated in a way more telling than he realized and the older man regarded him as he continued. "I… just thought I'd come by…see how things were going."

"I see. Well, something to drink while you work up to the real reason for your visit?" Gabe asked with a rather amused expression.

Marshall found that he felt more relaxed, rather than flustered, by Gabe calling him out and he smiled. "Just a club soda, bartender. Lots of ice."

As Gabe set about his task, Marshall continued to speak. "It seems you have chosen a similar line of work…gone from serving your flock bread and wine on an altar to serving the masses drink from behind a bar…gone from one confessional to another, so to speak."

"Concerned I'll tip my hand, Inspector?" Gabe set the glass in front of Marshall and leaned on the bar with his left hand, towel grasped loosely in his right.

"No, not at all," Marshall responded, looking the man in the eyes as he spoke. "I know how difficult it is to walk away from everything and have to start over again." A breath. "But to have to give up a calling, your purpose in this life, the one thing that has defined you, body and soul…"

"You're worried I'm having a crisis of faith," Gabe interjected.

Marshall nodded, freed from his struggle to find the words. It was a rare moment for him, not to have the eloquence to express his thoughts, but he realized the problem was that he really wasn't sure what he thought about this witness. It was a feeling in his gut, a nagging in his head that had brought him to the bar. _A priest is priest. How does one walk away so indubitably?_

"For the Lord will not reject forever. Although he causes grief, he will have compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love; for he does not willingly afflict or grieve anyone."

"Lamentations 3:31-32," Marshall uttered upon hearing the passage.

"Impressive," Gabe praised, "religion or education?"

"I have my faith, my beliefs," he admitted, "but I don't believe I'd be considered a religious man; an avid reader, yes, but religious?"

"As a well read man of the world, would you agree that not all knowledge comes from the classroom?" Marshall inclined his head in agreement. "There are many religions, Inspector, and they are not all found in a church." Gabe left the younger man to ponder his words as he turned his attention to the other end of the bar.

Marshall sat in silence for several minutes, swirling the ice in his glass as he watched the man work. Gabe was comfortable and confident, a natural. No one would ever guess that the man pouring their whiskey and mixing their drinks hadn't spent his life behind the bar.

XXX

When Marshall strolled in at the same time the following week, Gabe was not at all surprised. In fact, he had been expecting the man. The sadness, possibly regret, hidden behind the kind blue eyes had not escaped his notice and he'd known in that moment that God did have a plan for him in Albuquerque.

Marshall was taking off his coat and returning the bartender's nod of greeting when he realized that he had no recollection of his decision to head to the Two Fools' after work, but he had ended up there all the same. Choosing not to sit, he rested his forearms on the bar and observed Gabe's exchange with a woman sitting alone ten stools away. It was clear the woman felt at ease as she prattled on about an upcoming faculty meeting at the University.

'Professor by day, barfly by night,' he thought, shaking his head as he grabbed a handful of pretzels from the bowl on the bar. Studying her more carefully, there was nothing to suggest that she was on the prowl and a wave of sympathy washed over him. He knew all too well what going home every night to an empty house can do to you if you let it. _Isn't that why you fill your evenings with classes, lectures and art shows, Mann?_

"Fortitudine vincimus."

The Latin phrase caught Marshall's attention, previous thoughts retreating back into his subconscious as he huffed in response to what Gabe had said to the woman. _By endurance we conquer._ It was a phrase he had always believed in, but lately he was starting to doubt whether or not it was true. Maybe the optimist was truly just a fool?

A glass was set on the bar in front of him drawing his attention to the man that had placed it there. Beyond the bartender, the door swung slowly shut and a half empty wine glass was left abandoned in front of a now vacant stool.

"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us." Gabe had no doubt that Marshall would recognize Emerson. It seemed as if the marshal had drifted off to a more somber place since his arrival and Gabe hoped to draw him out of his reverie by engaging his mind elsewhere. _And who knows, maybe he'll open up some in the process?_

"Emerson, ever the romantic," Marshall responded sarcastically as he raised the glass of club soda to his lips. He'd had a hell of a week. Things with Mary were comfortable again, or so he thought, they'd moved on from the shooting and Raph was gone. He'd even felt that just maybe...no, he couldn't, wouldn't let his thoughts go there. Then, he'd gone and thrown himself headlong into the mess that was Lois.

He still had no idea what he'd been thinking. _Had it been the chance to prove Mary wrong? The need to be someone's knight in shining armor? Or had I simply be drawn to the lost soul, the person that Lois used to be?_ The fact that Mary didn't even seem to notice how it had affected him had just been the nail in the proverbial coffin.

"You struck me as someone that would appreciate transcendentalism," Gabe said after it was clear that Marshall had no intention of elaborating.

"Recently, I have been contemplating that Poe may have had a point." Marshall saw the skepticism in Gabe's eyes and relented, just a bit. "Okay, I admit that may be a little extreme. But wisdom is not the only thing that comes with age, it also brings realism. I've seen too much to believe that there is some natural order of things that will restore balance. Sometimes…sometimes the road less travelled leads to nowhere, the good guys really do finish last and love…well, love definitely doesn't conquer all."

_Ah, there it is; the root of the problem, love. How could I have missed it?_ Gabe regarded Marshall a moment before speaking. Love was definitely a tricky topic. One misspoken word and he may not get the chance to say another. Thankfully, his previous vocation had given him years of experience navigating difficult topics with even the most reluctant of confessors.

"And where has your path led you, Marshall?" Gabe asked, hoping to get to the heart of the matter by taking the indirect route. "Or do you find yourself once again faced with a crossroad in this life's journey?"

"It has brought me to the desert, a place as beautiful as it is fierce." Marshall smiled at the description that equally suited his partner, but it faded quickly. "And while I know my place is here, I find that I am thirsty for more than she can provide."

"O God, you are my God; I earnestly search for you. My soul thirsts for you; my whole body longs for you in this parched and weary land where there is no water." Gabe recited the passage, Psalm 63:1, with all the earnest of a true believer. He understood that Marshall's thirst was not for that of the Lord, but they were the only words of comfort he could readily provide. What the former priest was not yet willing to share was that he knew all too well the longing and despair of a man in love with someone he could not have.

XXX

The call came at 11pm, just as Gabe had been getting ready to turn in for the night and it had taken him completely off guard. Grabbing his keys, he was out the door in an instant. He lived close enough that he would normally walk to work, but under the present circumstances he decided the more quickly he arrived, the better.

As he made his way past the bar of the Two Fools', Gabe stopped briefly to thank John for calling him and asked him to put on a fresh pot of coffee while promising to take care of the situation. Then he continued to make his way toward a booth in the back corner.

"Marshall," he stated in greeting as he took a seat opposite the inebriated man.

"Gabe, you're here!" Marshall called out much louder than necessary, but his voice grew softer as he continued, words slurring together and eyes downcast. "I came, but you weren't here."

There was sadness in his tone that touched Gabe and he knew that Marshall's current state was a direct result of some yet unknown event. Reaching across the table, he placed his hand on the younger man's forearm.

"I'm here now, Son. I'm here now."

As they sat quietly, Gabe thought about the fact that Marshall had not actually shown up at his usual time this past week. It was during a routine visit from Mary two days ago that he had asked after her partner and she revealed that he was out of town. It was obvious from the man's current condition that something had happened during his trip or upon his arrival that had caused him to seek counsel, only to find that Gabe was not working.

It had been 10 days since Gabe had last seen the marshal and their conversation had been fairly lively. Marshall had seemed much more relaxed and arrived under the guise of still having concerns about Gabe's transition into his new life in Albuquerque. The pleasantries had quickly given way to an animated discussion of prophets and philosophers that lasted well into the evening and the younger man had bidden him farewell with a smile.

Sighing with the realization that he was not, in fact, Marshall's priest, Gabe questioned whether or not it was wise to be there with the WITSEC Inspector under the current circumstances. Marshall was not in control and Gabe knew there were certain lines that could not be crossed. He didn't want Marshall to unwittingly do anything to compromise his position within with the Marshal Service.

"Marshall... is there someone I can call to come get you?" he asked, pulling his phone from his pocket. "What about Mary?"

"No!" Marshall protested. "No. You can't call'er…not her. Promise me?" He reached out for the phone in agitation, only to end up knocking over the empty glass that had been sitting in front of him.

"Okay, okay," Gabe relented, catching the glass before it rolled off the table and onto the floor. "I won't call her."

"Then'll be just another drunk she'z gotta pick up off the floor," Marshall said, shaking his head bitterly. "No better than the rest a them. Can't do that…can't take 'er pity…won't." A beat. "How could she? 'N with that…that weeezel. Duzzint she see?" Marshall stifled a sob and looked around the table curiously. "Where'z my drink?"

"Coffee," Gabe stated. "Coffee is what you need, my friend." His heart ached for the man across the table as the pieces of the puzzle began to form a complete image in his mind. Mary was the reason Marshall was here.

Marshall wrinkled his nose and scowled in protest.

"Coffee or I call Mary. You're choice?"

"No," Marshall whispered, "there'z no choice." And with that, he relented, alternating between coffee and water as they sat cocooned in the silence of the booth.

Gabe stayed with Marshall until he was sober enough to put into a cab and send home without a chaperone.

* * *

**Love it? Hate it? Interested in more? Review and let me know.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sometimes when we slip and fall, we just have to pick ourselves, dust ourselves off, and keep on going...**

* * *

Marshall stood outside and took a deep breath before reaching for the door. "Time to pay the piper, jackass," he mumbled as he walked into the Two Fools' Tavern.

He made his way to his usual spot, the dull ache in his head slowly becoming more pronounced with each step and he wished he'd taken another dose of ibuprofen before leaving the office.

"Marshall," Gabe said, acknowledging the man's arrival at the bar and placing a glass in front of him that made Marshall's already queasy stomach churn in repulsion. "Drink it. It'll make you feel better."

Marshall raised a suspicious eyebrow at the bartender.

"You're just going to have to trust me," Gabe responded to the unspoken question.

"A leap of faith as it were." Marshall picked up the glass and held it up toward Gabe before chugging, doing his best to avoid tasting it before he got it down. He winced as he set the glass back on the bar. "Now, I believe I owe you an apology."

"Not me. But John, there, has already added you to the 'do not serve' list."

"Club soda only for this cowboy from now on," Marshall said, holding up his hands in defeat. "And extend my apologies to John." He took a few breaths as if gathering the strength to continue. "I'm sorry if I put you in a precarious situation…with work or...otherwise."

Marshall Mann was not a person that often lost control, especially when it came to his job, and last night was weighing heavy on his soul. He was in love with his partner and seeing her so easily seduced by a schmuck like Faber had sent him over the edge. But what was worse than him losing himself in a bottle, was the fact that he had crossed a line and involved a witness in his downward spiral of self-pity.

Gabe watched the man in front of him struggling with the fact that he had slipped in a moment of self-doubt and despair, and put himself and someone under his protection in a delicate and possibly dangerous position. The ex-priest did not want to see Marshall burden himself with added guilt over something that was not entirely his fault. Gabe had counseled the man, even encouraged his visits, knowing it would put them both in a sticky situation if their interaction came to light.

"Marshall, there is no reason to apologize. I know I cannot claim to be your priest, but as far as I'm concerned the same confidence applies. Consider it, bartender-client privilege, if you will," Gabe joked before continuing. "Nothing that has passed between us is of any concern to anyone else and it will continue to remain so as far as I'm concerned." Returning his attention to other patrons at the bar, Gabe allowed Marshall some time to think about what he had said.

As he mulled over the words in his mind, Marshall realized he was feeling much better than when he had arrived and made a mental note to ask Gabe about the concoction he'd consumed; although he had his doubts as to whether or not he really wanted to know what it contained. Knowing his mind was in avoidance mode, he forced his thoughts back to the matter at hand.

The words of Chekov echoed in his ears, "_you must trust and believe in people or life becomes impossible." _He'd only known the former priest for a little over a month, but it had been a long time since Marshall had felt this comfortable conversing openly with someone. It had been cathartic and he felt for the first time that just maybe he'd be able to work through some of the issues that had been weighing so heavily on his shoulders.

Understanding the repercussions of an incident such as that of the previous evening, he vowed to refrain from any further visits to the Two Fools' when he was under emotional duress. _An exercise in self discipline_. That decided, he chose to put himself first, for once, and continued to seek Gabe's guidance and counsel.

XXX

"So, interested in buying a lady a drink?" Gabe asked Marshall, tossing his head in the direction of the woman at the other end of the bar.

She'd been here when Marshall walked in; the one he had referred to as a barfly the first time he'd seen her. A few minutes prior, Gabe had informed him that she was actually a Professor of Women's Studies at UNM and delightful conversationalist.

"While I'm sure she's lovely," Marshall responded with an almost pained expression, "let's just say my heart wouldn't be in it."

"The heart has reasons that reason does not understand*," Gabe quoted. The two men had spoken twice since Marshall's night of drunken despair with no mention of the incident or the reason behind it. The bartender had no intention of playing matchmaker between his patrons, but used it instead as the opening he needed with Marshall.

"The heart is forever making the head its fool**," Marshall responded flatly. At seeing frustration pass over his companion's face, he added, "We are quoting the French, are we not?"

"Is that what this is about? You feel you're playing the fool?" Gabe threw the towel over his left shoulder and leaned his hands on the bar in front of Marshall.

"Oh, a fool I am. I just can't for the life of me figure out whose fool." He sat back on the stool and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Am I my own fool for letting this happen? Her fool for letting her treat me like one? Or is love alone an acceptable excuse these days for entering into a fool's folly?" His tone was bitter and he no longer tried to hide it. _How the hell did I get here?_

"Did you? **Let **it happen?" Gabe asked and Marshall looked over at him in surprise. "Is loving…this person a conscious choice you made?"

"If it were something we could control, a choice we could make," Marshall began, "then I wouldn't be here right now, but at home with my wife and 2.2 kids."

"And who exactly do you see when you look at this picture of perfect familial bliss?"

"Ah, well that's sucker punch, isn't it?" the Inspector said, more animated and less severe in his tone now. "You see, it seems to me that love has a rather dark sense of humor. Not only does it choose **not** to consult the mind on matters of the heart, but it turns everything you ever believed on its ear. Because there's only person I can see by my side when I look into the future, and it's the last person in the world I would try to conform to any normal societal standards."

"So your picket fence?" Gabe inquired. "The 2.2 kids?"

"There are plenty of people chasing the American dream, Gabe," Marshall mused. "The world still needs people willing to blaze their own trail."

"The last thing you sound like to me, Marshall, is a fool."

"Well, I'm not so sure that everyone would agree with you." Marshall sighed and responded to Gabe's inquisitive look. "My father's coming to town."

"And that isn't good news I take it?" the bartender asked, toiling behind the bar.

"Let's just say I'm a bit of a disappointment to my father. I'm not the rough and tough example of a U.S. Marshal that has come to be expected in my family."

"You're in the family business, then. I didn't realize that." Gabe said before stepping away to wait on others. Upon his return, he asked, "Have you always felt this way in regards to your father?"

"My fathers's a man of few words; but believe me, he always made those words count." Marshall took a deep breath and sip of club soda before proceeding. "Men had certain roles to play and any deviation or interests beyond what he believed were not looked on kindly."

"Your father is a man, Marshall, as are we all. Don't be too harsh to judge him without first getting to know him."

Gabe's words reverberated in Marshall's head and he tried to focus on them, even as the impending visit twisted his insides into knots.

XXX

He sat contemplatively as he examined the twisted the snack food he held between his fingers. Picking up another, Gabe watched as he placed them side by side with a critical eye.

"Did you know that 80% of the American pretzel production takes places in Pennsylvania? The industry is worth of $550 million and the average American consumes about 1.5 pounds of pretzels per year."

"I did not know that," Gabe replied, regarding the younger man for a moment. He was well aware of Marshall's penchant for rattling off random facts or trivia. But what he'd come to discover was that it happened most often when the man was trying to avoid other subject matter. So he'd listen politely and often out of curiosity, until there was an opening.

"You haven't mentioned your father." Gabe brought up after the topic of pretzels had been exhausted. "Was he here?"

"Yes, he most certainly was here," Marshall stated, taking a sip of his club soda. Both men were silent a moment before Marshall took a breath and continued. "And I'm not going to say it was easy, in fact, it was anything but. However," he said, holding up his index figure to indicate a point was being made, "it seems that with my father, things were not always how I perceived them to be."

Gabe smiled.

"Don't go patting yourself on the back just yet, barkeep. Things are far from being comfortable between my father and me. And while the reasons for his actions may not have always been what I believed them to be, he's still a long way from really wanting to take the time to get know me…to understand me."

"Still, it has to feel good," Gabe remarked, "having taken that first step."

"I don't see any father/son fishing trips in our future, but there is a sense of relief that comes with letting go of some of the resentment I've been harboring all these years. I know everyone isn't as lucky." His voice trailed off at the end, as he if thoughts were elsewhere and Gabe let the man be while he poured drinks for the waitress and checked on the others at the bar.

"It's reassuring when we are reminded that our faith and trust in someone hasn't been misguided," Marshall mused upon Gabe's return. The way in which Mary had come to his aid and stood beside him when faced with the revered U.S. Marshal Seth Mann, his father, had not been lost on him. In fact, without her, he had no doubt that he and his dad would've most likely done irreparable damage to their already fragile relationship. "What I'm finding," a calculated pause, "is that being on the receiving end of someone's absolute faith and trust is much more arduous. To know when that person needs you… to support them without bias…that, is a true test of character."

"There is no greater test of a person's character than to lay before them a situation with which they have no experience, no idea of how to respond; and see how they react...what path they choose."

Marshall ruminated over the words as they hung in the air above the bar. He thought about how often he was faced with unexplored territory when it came to dealing with Mary and whether or not he would pass the test. When he acted, was it always in her best interest? He analyzed the current the situation with Mia. As much as he wanted Mary to develop interpersonal relationships, knew she needed the connection and contact more than she'd ever admit, she'd bought herself a first class ticket to heartache when it came to Mia and it pained him to know what was in store.

"And when we see someone we…care about doing something that will cause them pain? Where is the line? The one that separates doing the right thing from doing that which you feel will cause the person you love the least about of pain?"

"The fact that you even recognize that there is a line speaks volumes about your character," Gabe told him. "Most people would not be so astute."

"There are times when knowing it's there doesn't seem to make it any easier to navigate." Marshall absently played with the corner of the cocktail napkin that had been place under his glass.

"As much as we may wish to, we can't shield those we care about from all the pain and suffering of life. Hurting is a part of life and without it a person would never come to realize just how precious love and joy are."

"I understand that," Marshall replied, "I do. But when it seems that all we do is watch that person continue to suffer…" He stopped himself, choking back emotions that he had not intended to bring to the surface.

"We are there," Gabe said softly, "and we continue to be there. Sometimes that is our calling, just to be there so that person knows they're not alone…that they will never be alone." He paused, allowing his companion time to absorb the importance of the words. "It means our hearts will ache as we suffer alongside them, but it's better to share the burden than to try and shelter them from it."

* * *

*Jacques-Bénigne Bossuet

**François de la Rochefoucauld

* * *

**Is Gabe helping Marshall? And why is it love can cause such suffering? Thanks for reading and would love to hear from you.**


	3. Chapter 3

**"Love that we can not have is the one that lasts the longest, hurts the deepest and feels the strongest..." - unknown **

* * *

The following week as Marshall approached the Two Fools', he noted the familiar Mustang parked in the no parking zone out front. Curiosity getting the better of him, he peered through the window to see Mary seated at the bar, engaged in a discussion with Gabe. Her back facing the door, he was able to watch without fear of being spotted and speculated as to whether Mary had found a confidant in the bartender as well.

They were partners, best friends and he was sure that he knew her…that she had let him get to know her…better than anyone else in her life. So the pang of jealousy he felt at the idea that she was opening up to another took him by surprise. He thought about all the times he had tried to get her to really talk to him. The chipping away he'd done at her last defenses, only to have her throw new road blocks in his path.

Logic told him he was wrong. Mary was very good at her job and while it was very possible she felt comfortable with Gabe, even enjoyed his company as opposed to most of her witnesses, he knew she wouldn't cross the line. She was, after all, officially Gabe's WITSEC Inspector. Even with Mia, Mary had kept certain boundaries in place, refusing to divulge anything confidential or too personal. Still, the sight made him long for the piece of her heart she had yet to give him.

His reflections were cut short as Gabe looked up and caught his eye. Not wanting to interrupt or be discovered by Mary, Marshall tilted his head and pointed to indicate he was leaving. Gabe responded with the slightest of nods and returned his attention to the woman in front in him. Not wanting to go home to an empty house, Marshall climbed back into the SUV and headed toward the office.

XXX

"…and that is why the Zambian authorities don't allow tourists to take pictures of Pygmies," Marshall concluded with a chuckle. He looked over at Gabe to find him staring, unfocused, across the room. "Well, I guess not everyone finds Pygmies amusing."

"'scuse me," Gabe blurted out, "I'm sorry, Marshall, did you say something?"

"Nothing of any significance," he assured. "Well, at least not to anyone other than anthropologists, I suppose."

The bartender eyed him oddly, previous meditations set aside.

"You are not the first person to regard me that way," Marshall proffered. "And I have no doubt you won't be the last." The introspective state of the bartender had captured his attention as he had taken his seat earlier. It now being clear that anecdotes and trivia would not serve as a distraction, he decided that maybe Gabe just needed to talk. A service he was more than willing to provide to the man that had so readily provided him the same courtesy.

"I find myself wondering if the shepherd is feeling a bit lost without his flock," Marshall said with both concern and sincerity evident in his voice.

"Not lost, but…astray in this desert," Gabe replied, referencing a previous conversation.

"A desert it may be, but you are neither astray nor alone," Marshall reminded him. "And while your current congregation may be a bit more…uncivilized, it does not mean your sermons are not heeded."

"I'm a man, Marshall, just as you are," Gabe began. "And while I answered my call from God to serve the Church, it doesn't mean I'm immune to the wants and needs of men. It may be that I left more than just my flock behind." Seeing Marshall's attempt to check his surprise, he added, "Don't misunderstand me; I've been faithful to my vows. But as you're well aware, Inspector, love that's not physical is love all the same."

Marshall gave Gabe a half smile and a knowing nod of the head. It turned out the two men had much more than a fondness of literature and conversation in common. The uneasiness he'd felt upon Gabe's signing of the MOU was pacified and he couldn't help but wonder if some divine intervention hadn't brought them together.

"For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord." Marshall recited, remembering the passage from Jeremiah. "They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope."

"Hope," Gabe sighed. "All I can do is put my faith in the Lord and hope. Hope for some sign, any sign, that it's his hand still guiding me."

"And why would you think that it wouldn't be?" Marshall questioned. "Do you think He would punish you for leaving the Church when you were trying to do the right thing…seeking justice for the dead."

"But isn't it for God to be the judge?" Gabe's voice conveyed a sense of loss as he spoke.

"Thou shalt not kill, Gabe. Is that not God's law? You're not holding these men to any standards or laws that you yourself don't adhere to." Marshall paused and took breath, gathering his thoughts. "And the truth of the matter is you're not the one standing in judgment. You're simply telling the truth and that is not something that God would find fault with."

Marshall watched the bartender, expecting a change in expression or a softening of his features as the words registered, but he saw none.

"Could it be that you're the one standing in judgment of yourself? You spoke of people regretting that moment when everything changed and wishing they had somehow done things differently." Marshall could tell his words were having an effect as the other man shifted on his feet. "Is that what this is really about? If you'd just done it differently, then maybe you wouldn't have had to leave those you love, the Church and otherwise, behind?"

The look in Gabe's eyes as he met Marshall's was enough of a confirmation and Marshall's heart went out to the man. _Just because he's the counselor, doesn't mean he never needs counsel._ But for one night, enough had been said and he let silence settle between them.

As the two men stood leaning on their respective sides of the bar, staring across the room into an unforeseeable future, each prayed that it was not in God's plan for them to face it alone.

XXX

He practically stumbled into Church, his legs unsteady after 9 hours in the driver's seat. But the truth of the matter was that he was simply exhausted, mentally and physically. Making his way down the aisle under dim lights and the soft glow of candles lit in honor of those that had passed, he found that he was all alone in the house of worship and fell to his knees on the steps on the altar.

It had been 3 days since, in a moment of weakness; he'd lost control of his faculties and let his heart lead him into damnation. The idea of watching the woman he loved go off in search of some random cowboy to bang had short-circuited his system, leaving him unable to stop the words that came spewing out of his mouth. There was a reason he'd never pushed her before, kept his feelings in check. It was because he knew what the result would be and she'd proven him right. She bolted. Ran as fast as she could and left him behind, dejected, with his heart on his sleeve.

As soon as he'd been able to recover enough to drag his sorry ass out of the office, he'd fallen into a bottle and it had taken him 2 days to crawl back out. Amidst his drunken stupor, he'd even considered going out and finding a cute blonde with whom he could work out his frustrations, but the idea had only served to depress him more knowing it would be a sad substitute for the original. It was that sobering thought that had caused him to dump the last of the whiskey down the drain. And after sleeping it off, he'd cleaned himself up and climbed behind the wheel of the SUV.

Running.

_From the pain? Toward consolation?_ He knew not. He just ran.

Now, kneeling before God in a Las Vegas Church, he found he was questioning his sanity as well as his place in this world. And for the umpteenth time this year, he hung his head and thought, _how did I get here?_

"When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears, and rescues them from all their troubles." Gabe's voice broke through the silence as he quoted Psalm 34:17 and placed his right hand on Marshall's left shoulder in an act of comfort.

The priest had come to lock up the Church for the night when he'd discovered the man kneeling before the altar. He'd done a double take, believing the disheveled figure merely resembled the U.S. Marshal he'd befriended back in Albuquerque. But upon further investigation, he realized it was, in fact, Marshall and he was reminded of a night three months ago when he'd poured coffee for the younger man as they sat quietly in a booth at the Two Fools'.

"My groans are many and my heart is faint." Marshall whispered the words from Lamentations without looking up. He was tired, more tired than he'd ever felt and he just wanted time to stop, so that he could be still, without thinking or feeling, and regain his footing.

"Come, Son," Gabe said, urging him to his feet as if reading his mind. "You need to rest."

Gabe ushered Marshall into a pew while he finished his evening duties and then guided him to the rectory. After watching the lost soul sink into the couch, Gabe went about making them something to eat and conjectured about the reasons behind the younger man's presence. When he returned with the plates, Marshall was asleep.

Food set aside, Gabe found a blanket and covered his friend. Then turning off the light and taking a seat in the chair opposite, he waited. The last thing he wanted was for Marshall to wake up alone, lost and abandoned, in a strange place.

"Let not steadfast love and faithfulness forsake you," Father Gabe spoke softly into the darkness of the room, "bind them around your neck; write them on the tablet of your heart.*" He knew of only one thing, one person that could affect Marshall in such a way. Holding fast to the belief that his friend had come seeking guidance and not absolution, Gabe prayed he'd be able to see Marshall safely through the storm.

Marshall shifted and the searing pain in his back jolted him awake. The grey light of the early morning filled the room as he took in his surroundings; the unfamiliar blanket on the unfamiliar couch. Stretching to try and regain control over his muscles, he looked across the room and saw Gabe asleep in the chair.

The immediate relief he felt at realizing where he was didn't last. What he could remember of the last few days came flooding back and with it, all the pain and hopelessness. Sitting up, he rested his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in hands. _What the hell is wrong with me?_

Not being able to sit idle, and not wanting to think about the last few days, Marshall pulled himself up off the couch. After finding the bathroom and becoming a bit more presentable, he busied himself in the kitchen making breakfast. He had no idea what Gabe ate, but he figured it was the least he could after showing up unannounced the way he had and proceeding to pass out on the couch. The twinge of guilt over the fact that he had caused his friend to worry enough to sleep in a chair as to not leave him alone didn't help.

A dozen pancakes, half a dozen scrambled eggs and one pot of coffee later, Marshall stood back and examined the fruits of his labor. He suddenly realized that there were probably other priests that lived in the rectory and debated whipping up another batch of pancakes when Gabe appeared in the doorway.

"I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink…"

"…I was a stranger and you welcomed me," Marshall finished the verse from Matthew as Gabe walked into the room.

"You are no stranger," Gabe said, smiling and holding out his hand in greeting. "It's good to see you, Marshall. I can't help but wonder, though, just how many you planned on feeding this morning."

"It's not enough, is it?" Marshall questioned, kicking himself for not thinking there may be others. "I can make some more, it'll…"

"Relax," Gabe told him as he suppressed a chuckle. "I was only teasing. I'm afraid it's just the two of us this morning. Father Frank and Father McNeil are both otherwise engaged."

"Coffee?" Marshall asked, reaching for the pot with a look of relief. He hadn't yet explained his presence to Gabe and he couldn't imagine how the priest would explain his presence to others. He poured the coffee and took a deep breath. "Gabe…I mean, Father Gabe, I'm…"

"Gabe will be fine. There's no need for such formalities among friends," the older man said reassuringly and he saw his companion physically relax a bit. Motioning toward the table, he added, "C'mon, let's eat. I'm starving."

"Did you know," Marshall began, "that each of the roughly 280 million laying birds in the U.S. produces from 250 to 300 eggs a year. In total, the U.S. produces about 75 billion eggs a year, which is about 10% of the world supply**."

"I did not know that," Gabe replied with a smile as he picked up his fork began to eat.

Gabe noted how Marshall had occupied himself in the early morning hours with physical tasks such as cooking and cleaning. He sensed the man's need to keep busy was his way of attempting to regain some control and knew that physical labor could be therapeutic in working out any underlying anger or aggression. Having an idea of who had led Marshall there, but still didn't understand what had transpired, he formulated a plan.

He decided the best approach would be to put Marshall to work and wait until he was ready to open up. _We continue to be there_…remembering the words he'd spoken, he followed his own advice. Leaving him with a list of minor repairs for the rectory, in case he was looking for something to do; Gabe told Marshall he'd be in the Church if he needed anything and left.

Marshall spent the remainder of the morning with a tool box at his side as he made his way, one by one, down the list that Gabe had left. The leaky sink in the guest bathroom, the slow drain in the kitchen sink, the squeaky screen door that led out back, the broken dimmer switch in the living room, the loose doorknobs throughout the old house. The list went on and by 11am, Marshall had completed and checked off each item. Returning the tools to their rightful place, he grabbed his go bag from the truck. And once he was showered and dressed in clean clothes, he set out in search of Gabe.

Walking through the doors of the Church, Marshall squinted as the bright sun gave way to soft light. As he made his way down the side aisle, he admired the stained glass windows that had been dark with the night when he'd arrived. Several people were seated near the confessional and he noted the times on the sign, this morning's hours were almost through. Not wanting to disturb anyone, he made his way to the other side of the Church and took a seat to wait.

"I told you I was a fool," Marshall said as Gabe sat down next to him a short while later.

"That's not a word I would ever use to describe you," the priest stated.

"Well, I certainly feel like one, especially now…having shown up the way I did. There was just so much…pain. I tried to chase it away…drown it out is more accurate, I guess." He paused and took a breath. "In the end, I just felt like it was suffocating me, so I ran. I guess that makes me a coward too."

"And now," Gabe began, "are you still in pain?"

"Yes," Marshall responded, hanging his head, "but for the first time in days, I'm able to breathe. I told her, Gabe. I told Mary that I love her. Not in so many words, but I did the one thing I swore I wouldn't do, I backed her into a corner. And she ripped my heart to shreds as she clawed her way out and ran." A tear ran down Marshall's cheek as fought back the sobs.

"You told me once that love was not a choice. And just as we don't choose to love someone, we can't choose to stop loving that person." Gabe looked up toward the cross behind the altar as he spoke, hands clasped in his lap. "A love that is true never extinguishes. We love that person because of how it makes us feel to love them, without conditions or expectations. From what I know about Mary and your partnership, I have no doubt that she loves you, Marshall."

Gabe let his words hang in the air a moment before continuing.

"The only question becomes is how you respond to the situation you now find yourself in." _A true test of character, _Gabe thought. "What do you do if she's not able or capable of returning your love in the way you long for?" _This. _Gabe thought. _This is where we get to the real heart of the matter._

"It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails." Marshall spoke the phrase from Corinthians in a hushed whisper and was quiet a moment before adding, "Then I go on loving her."

"You're true to your heart, Marshall, and in doing so; you will never be a fool or a coward."

As Marshall sat next to Gabe in the silence of the Church, he finally felt as if some peace was in his grasp. There was no way he'd ever stop loving Mary Shannon and his love for her prevented him from doing anything that would cause her pain, like leaving. He would stand by her always. That was his calling. And one day, if he was lucky, he'd find that his heart had room for another.

* * *

* Proverbs 3:3

**find this and more egg facts at incredibleegg . org website

* * *

**Marshall, with Gabe's help, has begun healing. Thank you for reading and I appreciate the comments of all that reviewed and would love to hear from you too.**


End file.
